


Lorne's Team: In Training

by mandykaysfic



Series: Lorne's Team [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd survived kissing. Now for the next item on the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lorne's Team: In Training

He'd kissed Parrish. He'd kissed Coughlin. He'd kissed Reed. Parrish had kissed Reed and then Coughlin. Those two had finally kissed each other. It was like a math problem and Lorne wondered briefly whether Sheppard had a hand in setting up the spreadsheets. He poured everyone another drink as Parrish ticked off the appropriate cells. 

Lorne fidgeted. He'd turned away, thinking to give Coughlin and Reed some privacy. Coughlin had been agitated to begin with, although now it seemed like he'd gotten over it. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed they were still at it. They were supposed to determine who kissed best, or most efficiently, or longest, or maybe it was sexiest, something anyway, so on a mission they'd automatically put their best pair forward if given a chance. Or not freak out if the authorities chose the participants. Of course, this training didn't include kissing strangers. Their orders in that situation were to suggest it went against their own cultural mores (with an appropriate reason - religious, medical or anything else they could come up with - Stackhouse's team had begun compiling a list everyone had to memorize), but if it were absolutely necessary to secure the trade agreement, they'd be happy to kiss one of their own. He should turn back to watch. They’d have to get used to kissing, and more, in front of others soon enough.

Parrish drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you think we should stop them? We've got quite a bit to get through.”

“Not just yet. We've got two days for now and we've been allocated more training sessions here. Every ten days until we've covered everything on the list, and then at least every time some team encounters a new 'ritual'.” Lorne emphasized the last with air quotes. He debated whether to suggest he and Parrish get in some more practice while they waited, but just as he opened his mouth, the other two drew apart.

“Well, I think we're pretty good at that,” announced Reed, apparently having decided to cast aside any of his trepidations and simply get on with the job. He supported Coughlin with one arm while Coughlin regained his composure. “What's next on the list?”

“We could kill several birds with the same stone. In the masturbation section, there are a whole lot of qualifiers - speed, volume, distance, recovery time - you get the idea. We could do those all together. It'd save time that way.” Parrish apparently loved the spreadsheets as much as Dr McKay. He'd certainly absorbed a lot of the information in the short time he'd had to examine them. 

“You're suggesting a circle jerk then. A competitive one,” said Reed.

“I believe a straight line would be more conducive to measuring distance,” said Parrish thoughtfully, “but essentially, yes. Except it's not strictly a 'winner takes all' competition. You do realize we'll have to repeat all this several more times to make sure the data is accurate. Someone who hits, say, five or six feet practically every time would be more reliable, especially under pressure. I mean, something like a distance of eight feet could be a fluke. What? Kinsey reported distances of eight feet. Master and Johnson,” and he snorted loudly, “give the best distance as sixty centimeters, but what did they know? I've done more than that many times. Anyway, back to my point - one of us might hit eight feet the first time and then never get more than two, which could prove disastrous if a trade were depending on distance. Besides, the whole spectrum of results is important due to various cultures placing importance on different things. For example, the natives of MX3 947 seem to be premature ejaculators and proud of it. Their sacred animal is some sort of large primate; the male ejaculates seven seconds after mounting the female. So there, whoever comes fastest gets the accolades. On the other hand, the Jardanians of M77 727 value the person who takes longest. And then for volume, there's -.”

“Okay, we get it,” interrupted Coughlin.

“It's not that simple,” said Parrish. “There are places where various permutations of the aforementioned are important. Like on Cowamunga.”

“Cowabunga?! Please tell me they're not turtles,” groaned Reed.

“CowaMUNGan,” emphasized Parrish. “They're not turtles, at least Dr McKay hasn't indicated they're anything other than humanoid. However, as I was saying, The Cowamungans have a very interesting perspective on control. They're not exactly a matriarchal society, but the Council of Sisters prefer to deal with men who produce only certain amounts of semen, which must be aimed accurately at a target and collected within a certain amount of time.”

“We should start with the basics.” Lorne took control of the proceedings. He pulled his shirt over his head. The others followed suit. “Straight line, standing, first to finish and furthest distance. That's enough for the first time.”

Naked, he padded over to a tall cupboard in the far corner of the room. He blinked a little as he surveyed the contents. Sheppard hadn't been kidding when he'd said teams needed to be prepared for anything. He spotted what he needed and took out a roll of plastic.

“Floor protector,” he explained as he spread it out. Distances had already been marked out. “Loser cleans up.”

They jostled for places, elbowing one another until they'd run out of reasons not to begin. 

“On the count of three,” said Lorne. “One.”

“Shall I be time keeper?” asked Parrish and held up his forearm, finger at the ready to start the stopwatch function of his wristwatch, which he still wore.

“No,” moaned Coughlin. “You'll put me right off.” 

“You'll be no good for MX3 947 then,” said Reed, reaching around Lorne to dig Coughlin in the ribs. He bounced on his toes a couple of times.

“No time keeping this time. First to finish and longest distance only,” reiterated Lorne. “Now, any more questions? No. Good. One. Two.”

“Is there any hand lotion? I normally use hand lotion. No hand lotion will probably slow me down. I don't want to be at a disadvantage.” Parrish spread his hands out in front of him and examined his palms.

“Really, Parrish! Do you think natives are going to offer you hand lotion. It'd probably be some sort of animal grease if they did.”

“Not necessarily. There are any numbers of urban, sophisticated populations we've had contact with. Why, the -.”

“No lotion!” interrupted Lorne. Reed and Parrish were going to drive him crazy if they kept this up. “Not this time. It's just a base line figure. Use spit if you must.”

“Porn? Does anyone need any inspiration? I can access mine from this laptop.”

“Hey, now we're a team, we should share. What have you got?” Coughlin leaned around Lorne to look hopefully at Parrish.

“Not now!” 

“But we will be sharing, Sir, won't we? Pooling our resources, so to speak.”

“Yes, yes, we'll pool our resources. And you can drop the 'Sir' in here. Right, make sure your toes are touching the line. One. Two. Three. Go!” Lorne took his cock and stroked determinedly as he tried to think himself back into the mood. 

To Lorne's left, Coughlin groaned. To his right, Reed muttered to himself. Lorne caught the occasional 'yeah, that's it', and wished he'd agreed to watching Parrish's porn. He wondered what Parrish watched. He could just see Parrish at the edge of his field of vision. Just at that moment, Parrish turned a little. David, he supposed he should think of him, caught his eye. Lorne grinned in response to the smirk on David's face and automatically looked when David licked his lips and nodded down at his groin. He moved forward a little, to see past Reed.

“No cheating, Sir, uh, Evan.”

“Huh?” Lorne’s attention was on David’s hand. He jumped when a foot pressed on his.

“Behind the line,” said Reed, maintaining his rhythm despite the interruption.

“What?” He looked down to see he’d taken a step forward. “Oh, sorry.” Lorne pulled his foot back and carefully lined it up once more. He turned his gaze determinedly back to front and center. When they’d covered the basics, some extra training sessions covering concentrating during interruptions probably wouldn’t go astray. A single exclamation to his left distracted Lorne and he turned just in time to witness Coughlin come.

Reed and Parrish followed within a minute. Reed started first, scant seconds ahead of Parrish, but Parrish finished before him. Lorne flushed as the rest of his team turned to watch him.

“Yeah, come on.” Parrish offered encouragement and the others joined in. 

Lorne tuned out his surroundings. Forgot he was in the special training room in Atlantis. Forgot his new team avidly watching. Forgot everything except the feel of his hand on his cock, the broil of heat in his belly and the curl of his toes signalling his orgasm wasn’t far off.

Reed thrust a water bottle into his hand when he’d finished. Lorne felt mortified he’d allowed himself to be distracted to such an extent he’d lost the competition. He took the good-natured teasing comments about being responsible for the clean-up in the spirit in which it was meant, and thought perhaps it was a good thing as team leader he did this chore first, but promised himself to make sure it wasn’t always his chore.

Parrish dropped to his knees, tablet in hand. “Coughlin, fastest, but we really must time things next after this, otherwise we can’t calculate averages or work on ways to improve scores. By the way, how many drinks did you all have? We’ll have to do this again with zero blood alcohol, you know.”

“You’re surely not going to get Doctor Beckett in here to do tests,” said Reed.

“No. We’ll simply do it at the beginning of the next session. I’ll send a memo around the day before, reminding everyone to steer clear of alcohol, shall I?”

He’d definitely made the right choice appointing Parrish as Team Record Keeper, thought Lorne, and murmured his agreement, following it up with his drink tally of three. He assumed Parrish had already noted exactly what they’d been drinking.

“Well, what do you know? I got farthest. Only by half an inch.” Parrish called out everyone’s measurements as he entered them onto the spreadsheet. “I’m fairly certain you’d be leading with ‘volume’, Max,” he said as he indicated the long streaks of semen that were Reed’s, “but, of course I can’t be certain.” He scrambled carefully to his feet. “It’s all yours now, Evan.”

Lorne wrinkled his nose as the others laughed when he gingerly pulled the edges of the plastic together. He looked around and decided the best way to clean it would be under the shower. 

 

The others were sitting around the table, sharing a snack from the selection stored in the fridge when Lorne rejoined them. At least Parrish and Reed were; Coughlin had his head pillowed on his arms.

“Says he gets sleepy after he comes,” explained Reed. “He needs a nap.”

“We’ll have to train him out of that,” said Lorne. He helped himself to a wedge of soft cheese and mashed it between two slices of pear. “So….”

“Max here has topped a couple of times. He’s given a couple of blow jobs too, so not quite a novice. I’m pretty flexible – top, bottom, sideways even - it’s all good. Paul’s only ever exchanged two hand jobs. He thinks he should work up to things gradually, so we were debating whether to go with what he’s already done and pair up for mutual hand jobs, or maybe go straight for blow jobs. What do you think?” 

Lorne concentrated on chewing for a moment. They had a limited amount of time to become mission ready – Atlantis parlance for ‘no virgins on gate teams’ - however, Lorne knew what he really wanted. “Blow jobs,” he decided easily.

“With hands? Without hands? Which position? Longest lasting? Fastest? Should we swallow? What about facials?” Parrish reeled off a bunch of qualifiers. 

Lorne sighed. These spreadsheets might just be the death of him, or at least Parrish. Or possibly Dr McKay.

END


End file.
